


Laid Bare

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-07
Updated: 2007-01-07
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:37:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: When previously mundane things begin to turn Harry on, he’s forced to decide whether or not he can the next step to get what he desperately wants.





	Laid Bare

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for [](http://newerax.livejournal.com/profile)[**newerax**](http://newerax.livejournal.com/) whose kinks/wants included shaving one another and bottom Harry. I’d never read or written a shaving kink but I hope I did it justice for you.  
 **Beta:** Much love and thanks to my wonderful beta.  
 **A/N 2** : This was written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/bestmates_xmas/profile)[](http://community.livejournal.com/bestmates_xmas/)**bestmates_xmas** , which finally had its reveal today, so I can now reveal that I wrote it. :)   


* * *

Harry turns his head a few inches to get a better look at Ron out of the corner of his eye, trying not to make it obvious what he‘s doing. He shifts his arm in a mock-stretch, resting his head on top of his elbow a much better position to see Ron lying on top of his bed. He’s recently discovered himself using any opportunity to get a better look at Ron. He finds himself dressing slower to watch Ron, walking a step behind him to get a better look at his arse. He’s even caught himself eating less because he’s too preoccupied with watching the silver ware slide in and out of Ron’s mouth; too overcome with uninhibited thoughts and fantasies.

It is as if everything Ron does lately sends a barrage of not- so-innocent thoughts to Harry’s mind. His subconscious works against him, turning seemingly innocent acts into wanton sexual acts. Harry was finally forced to admit to himself that things might be getting out of hand when he caught himself getting turned on watching Ron brush his teeth the night before. Harry had been powerless to pull his eyes away from Ron’s mouth as the toothbrush went in and out of his mouth, the handle scraping the bottom of his lip with every pass, and a bit of foamy toothpaste stained his upper lip. He’d been horrified to find himself getting hard, imaging his tongue exploring every place the toothbrush was; jealous of a bloody inanimate object. His face had flushed at the discovery and he left the bathroom quickly, getting into bed and feigning sleep before Ron had a chance to question his behavior.

Now, in the light of the morning, things are even more confusing than Harry thought possible.  
Ron is still sleeping. Harry can tell by the tiny snoring noises coming from his half open mouth. His hair is completely mussed and there’s a tiny bit of drool on his pillow. He’s wearing a bright orange shirt and Harry isn’t sure if it clashes worse with Ron’s hair, his bedspread or the red boxers he’s wearing. He looks a bit ridiculous really, his too tall frame cramped into the tiny bed. Yet all Harry can concentrate on is the dusting of red hair on his legs; strong thighs tangled amongst starch white sheets.

It is a rare moment when Harry can simply watch Ron without fear of being discovered or interrupted. He relishes the prospect of just looking, without worrying that someone catch him, without having to spend half his time thinking up lame excuses just in case catches him.

Harry’s face heats up just at the thought of someone else knowing how he feels about Ron. He balks at the idea of people finding out he’s got a - whatever this thing is; a crush, lust, _love_ \- on his best mate. Accepting it himself is one thing, and Harry’s still not exactly sure what it all means or what he really wants. All he knows is that it involves Ron. Knowing it himself though is one thing, and he’d rather keep it that way. He doesn’t want more attention, doesn’t want people talking about him, about _them_.

Harry isn’t even sure he wants Ron to know, perfect Ron who’s dated Lavender and Hermione and that one other Ravenclaw girl for a week, who he never actually liked anyway. Ron could have any gorgeous girl he wanted. No, Harry definitely can’t tell Ron. Ron deserves someone better, someone who can give him a normal life. No one in their right mind would ever choose a short, near sighted, messy haired, teenage boy with constant death threats on his head over, well anyone else really. As long as Ron doesn’t know, doesn’t actually choose someone else over Harry, then he can make himself believe that he is just fine. He can pretend that way, pretend that things are better this way, without ever having to deal with the possibility that Ron doesn’t need Harry nearly as much as Harry seems to need him.

Ron begins to shift, stretching out his arms and legs from the cramped position he’s slept in all night, and Harry knows he’ll be completely awake within a few minutes. Harry shifts too, turning his head to the other side and pretending to be asleep. He doesn’t see the look Ron gives him. Doesn’t see the way Ron relishes the opportunity to simply look without interruption or fear just as much as Harry had. He doesn’t know Ron’s thoughts are racing a mile a minute and he has no idea that Ron’s heart beats just a little faster every time he’s looking at Harry.

*~*~*~

The rest of the morning seems to be progressing the same as always. The boys greet each other with a mumbled good morning as they climb out of bed and make their way down the hall to the bathroom. It takes a moment for them to realize they’re both headed in the same direction, and unlike Hogwarts there is only one sink and shower in the Burrow.

Harry shifts his on his feet, bouncing lightly from heel to toe, feeling awkward. “Go ahead, I’ll just go back to your room and wait.”

“Nah, you’re the guest. You go first.”

Right, _guest_ , Harry thinks. Nothing more than a guest. “No worries, mate.”

Ron looks like he’s about to protest, so Harry gives him an encouraging smile before he turns and walks back down the hallway.

Harry flops down onto the bed dejectedly. He knows he’s got to get some semblance of control over his emotions. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up. He stares up at the ceiling, allowing himself to get lost in thought.

Thirty minutes later Harry is still staring at the ceiling. He can’t hear the water running anymore, so he figures Ron is probably done. The sensible part of Harry’s brain tells him to wait for Ron to come back to the room, that he might still be in there, but the more impatient and irrational side is telling him to just go.  
“He’s probably in the kitchen eating,” Harry says to himself, because if he says it out loud it makes it more real. It is easier to convince himself that it‘s actually true. That way he can almost pretend that he isn’t hoping Ron is still in there. Wet. Naked. Wet and Naked.

Harry swallows audibly as he walks towards the bathroom. The door is shut, but there is no noise coming from inside, and Harry doesn’t know whether this is a good or bad thing. He should knock first, he knows he should. He raises his hand, reaching out towards the door, but his hand doesn’t curl into a fist. He doesn’t knock lightly at the door. He doesn’t announce his presence. Instead, his fingers curl tightly around the doorknob, turning the handle slowly and pushing it open.

A wave of steam comes billowing out as the cold air from the hallway comes into contact with the scalding hot temperatures in which Ron likes to shower. Harry’s glasses fog up and he’s forced to remove them and wipe them on his shirt. He looks up again as he places his glasses back on his nose and his mouth falls open at the sight before him.

Ron is standing at the sink, a towel wrapped low around his waist. Several stray drops of water are running down his chest and his back. Harry stares transfixed as one droplet in particular falls from Ron’s hair and runs down the length of his chest till it reaches the trail of red hairs just above the towel. Ron’s hair is still half wet and the longer tendrils are sticking to the back of his neck.

Even more disconcerting is what Ron is doing. Ron is shaving. It really shouldn’t be a big deal. Harry has seen Ron shave loads of times. Except, it is a big deal because he’s never been able to just watch him. Ron is so concentrated on the task at hand that he has yet to notice Harry’s presence and Harry would be dumb not to take advantage of that fact. Ron is standing in a steaming bathroom with water running down his body, half naked, shaving. Harry feels his mouth go dry.

It feels wrong to be watching; to see Ron so exposed. Harry feels almost voyeuristic seeing this, and it excites him more than he would have expected. Ron’s face is covered in shaving cream and Harry stares, transfixed, at the slow drag of the blade up Ron’s jaw. Shaving is such a mundane thing. Harry doesn’t have to shave as much as Ron and he’s never liked doing it. He does it quickly and it shows, since Harry usually has several nicks and cuts by the time he’s done. He has never seen Ron with a single cut before, never given too much thought as to why. Now he knows why. It’s like a ritual for Ron. Ron is methodical and slow, something he almost never is, and Harry cannot look away. It shouldn’t be sensual or erotic, but it is. With each slow swipe Harry feels the arousal pooling at the pit of his stomach. The blade, so sharp, glides across Ron’s delicate skin. Every swipe revealing another smooth expanse of Ron’s jaw and neck.

Harry makes a small noise in the back of his throat, startling Ron. Ron’s hand slips a little at the disturbance. Not enough to do any real damage, just enough to nick his throat. He spins around quickly and sees Harry standing there watching him. Harry can’t decipher out the look in Ron’s eyes, though he can only imagine what he would feel like if Ron caught him doing something so private. Yet he still can’t make himself look away. His eyes are glued to the minuscule trail of blood seeping down Ron’s neck, to the cut he caused. He walks towards Ron, his body disobeying his mind’s desire to run far, far away. Harry picks up the bath towel from the counter and presses it against the small cut on Ron’s neck for a few seconds, applying pressure until the bleeding stops. Ron doesn’t move a muscle. He’s still holding the razor halfway up the air, staring down at Harry as if he’s never seen him, as if he’s afraid to move.

Harry is oblivious to all of this. He’s too concentrated on the heat coming off of Ron’s skin. He can’t focus on anything but the feel of Ron’s adam’s apple underneath his fingers,the feel of smooth, warm skin and the flexing of muscles beneath his fingers as Ron breaths and swallows. He can feel every breath coming and going from Ron’s body, feel the quiver in his throat as Ron swallows. Harry removes the towel, happy to see the bleeding has stopped.

“You can finish shaving now.” Harry manages to get out.

Ron doesn’t make a movement. He’s still staring at Harry, Holding the razor listlessly in his hand.  
Harry isn’t sure what’s come over him, though he knows he’s probably out of his mind for contemplating this. He reaches over, brushing his fingertips along Ron’s wrist, sliding his hand into Ron‘s. He grips the razor with two fingers, tracing Ron’s palm with his thumb and encouraging Ron to loosen his grip. Ron slowly catches on and the razor falls smoothly into Harry’s upturned hand.

Harry backs up little by little, until his back hits the sink. He needs more height or the angle will be all wrong, will be too awkward. Placing one hand on either side of the sink he grips the base and hops up, sitting on the edge and putting him at almost equal height with Ron. He reaches out and touches Ron’s side firmly, encouraging him to follow Harry towards the sink and close the gap. Ron complies easily, moving straight into the open space between Harry’s parted legs.

Harry takes a deep breath as he looks into Ron’s eyes. It’s not often Harry can look into them without having to look up. Ron may be almost naked physically, but Harry feels naked emotionally and somehow it’s balanced, as if they are on equal footing now.

Harry raises his hand, placing it against Ron’s bare cheek and turning his head. There’s still a thin strip of shaving cream on the side of Ron’s face and Harry is determined to be the one to get rid of it. He lets out a shaky breath as he places the razor next to Ron’s skin.

Harry isn’t sure when his other hand found its way to Ron’s bare stomach, but he can feel Ron shuddering beneath him and Harry has to marvel at the amount of trust Ron must have in him. This thought gives him courage, and he unhurriedly pulls the razor down Ron’s cheek and all the way down his neck, all the while marveling at the smooth expanse of skin being revealed to him. He shakes the residue from the razor before repeating the action. All that remains is a small patch along the most tender part of Ron’s neck. With careful concentration he steadies his hand, dragging it along the sensitive skin till nothing is left but a trail of freckles.

Harry drops the razor into the sink the clatter breaking both boys out of their trance. Ron backs up enough for Harry to slip down off the sink.

“All done?” Ron questions, his voice sounding strained.

Harry can’t seem to find his voice, so he nods instead. Ron slips past him, turning the faucet on and bending down to rinse off his face. He grabs the towel to dry off, turning around and attempting to smile as if everything were perfectly normal. Except everything is not perfectly normal because Harry is painfully aroused and Ron’s small towel does nothing to conceal the fact that he obviously feels the same.  
Harry is almost content to let Ron go on pretending, to let him act like something didn’t just happen. That is until he notices there’s still a small red spot on Ron’s neck. His perfect skin marred with the stain of blood the water failed to wash away. Harry can’t look at it without wanting to get rid of it. All he can think about is placing his hands and mouth where the razor just was, to see how Ron’s skin would taste when he dragged his tongue across it.

Abandoning all sense of control, Harry steps forward, leaning up just enough to suck lightly at the spot on Ron’s neck. Harry is terrified Ron will push him away, but he can do nothing to stop himself. Rather than push him away, Ron’s hands come to rest at the base of Harry’s back, pulling him tighter against Ron’s body. Harry continues to kiss and lick at the pulsing neck until nothing is left but pale, unmarked skin. He’s breathing heavily now, struggling to catch his breath. Looking up, he sees that Ron seems to be just as overcome as he is.

Ron looks down at the same moment. He can see Harry standing there, lips flush and hair tousled as his chest heaves and his breath comes out in heavy puffs against Ron’s skin. Ron doesn’t stop to think how or why, but only knows he’s hard, that the object of his desires is standing before him wanting this just as much as he does and that gives Ron a sense of power, to know he isn’t the only one being overcome with this desire.

Ron feels emboldened by Harry’s reactions, and by his rather obvious arousal. Taking the initiative, he bends down and claims Harry’s lips, kissing him deeply. Kissing Harry seems as natural and right as breathing, and Ron doesn’t know how he went to long without it. He bites Harry’s bottom lip, sucking into his mouth, desperately trying to get as much as he can. Ron slides his tongue along Harry’s bottom lip, seeking permission to go within. At the same time he slips his hands beneath Harry’s shirt, one hand lightly tracing the line of Harry’s spine as the other dips beneath the ridge of his pants. Harry arches into the touch, pressing their bodies even closer.

The sensations are too much and not enough all at once. Harry can’t get enough, and knows he wants more. He breaks away from the kiss.

Ron opens his eyes and starts to make a disappointed grunting noise. “Wha-.” But before Ron can finish his question Harry has haphazardly yanked his shirt off, losing his glasses in the process. He throws his shirt into the corner before pressing his body back against Ron‘s, joining their lips once again. Ron smiles into the kiss, very appreciative of the feeling of skin against skin. Harry is soft and hard all at once, and his skin is warm against Ron’s chest. Harry fits perfectly into the curve of Ron’s body and Ron can’t figure out why he hasn’t been there all along. He digs his fingers into Harry’s hips, almost hard enough to bruise, but he doesn’t care. All he wants is Harry as close to him as physically possible.

Harry breaks away from the kiss. He begins to ask a question in between laving Ron‘s neck with kisses. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” Ron replies, before Harry can even finish speaking. He wants anything. He wants _everything._

Harry thinks that perhaps at least one of them should be embarrassed, should be shy or reserved, but they’re not. They’ve both seen each other naked heaps of times. Of course it’s a lot less innocent than it’s even been before, but that doesn’t stop Ron or Harry from removing their remaining clothing without any hesitation. It doesn’t stop them from rubbing their cocks together, delighting in the friction and sparks of pleasure it causes. And it definitely doesn’t stop them from unabashedly trying to taste and touch each other everywhere.

Harry soon has Ron backed all the way against the wall, and Ron takes the opportunity to lean against it, bending his knees slightly to slide several inches down the wall until their cocks are at equal height. Harry delights in this new position, using it to his advantage he wraps his hand around both their cocks, trying to hold onto as much as he can. Harry is jerking his hips, thrusting back and forth at a maddening pace. Their cocks are pressed together tightly, sliding in and out of Harry’s grip as his thumb teases at Ron’s slit. The tension is too much. Harry doesn’t think he can’t last much longer, not with Ron sucking on his tongue as his fingers grip Harry’s arse, alternatively kneading the flesh or pulling him harder against Ron’s own body.

“Not gonna last,” Harry says breathlessly.

“Then let go,” Ron tells him. He kisses along Harry’s jaw and up to his ear. “Come for me, Harry,” he says, before nipping Harry’s ear, pulling it into his mouth and sucking hard.

Harry’s knees almost buckle at the sensation. Ron’s left hand comes up to grip Harry’s hip, steadying him, as his other hand grasps onto his arse, his fingers tracing a path along the crack. Harry whimpers into Ron’s mouth. His hand closes around their cocks just a little tighter and his hips begin to thrust even faster in response. He is so hard, so aroused that he can feel the blood pounding in his ears.  
Ron slips his fingers down to tease at Harry’s hole and the sensation sends him over the edge. He feels his balls tighten and his toes curl as he begins to come. His legs feel weak and he can’t stop the moan that escapes his mouth as he clings to Ron’s body. All the while Ron holds him up, ignoring his own arousal as Harry comes down from his high.

Harry doesn’t want to be the only one to lose control though. He releases his own sensitive cock to focus on Ron‘s, increasing the pressure of his strokes. It doesn’t take long, just a few firm pulls, before Ron is coming too. Ron is even louder than Harry, grunting and whimpering into Harry’s mouth.  
Ron’s legs finally give out on him and he slides the rest of the way down the wall, tugging Harry down with him. Ron lets his head fall back against the wall as he struggles to catch his breath. Harry’s head is resting on his shoulder and he can feel warm breaths ghost against his neck.

Harry pulls back just enough to look into Ron’s eyes. “Is this okay?”

Ron laughs. They are naked and sweaty and Harry has just given him one of the best orgasms of his life. And even if it hadn’t been it was _Harry_ , and Harry was touching him there and kissing him and it was all the things he hoped it would be. “Not exactly okay,” Ron finally replies.

Harry looks crestfallen before Ron leans forward and captures his lips in a bruising kiss, leaving Harry breathless once again. “Not okay, Harry. _Perfect._.”


End file.
